


70% Human

by Chelsea_Horror



Category: F.E.A.R. (Video Games)
Genre: Cannibalism, Gore, Horror, Other, Psychic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelsea_Horror/pseuds/Chelsea_Horror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paxton wakes up in an unknown part of the jail with his powers stripped from him. He must get back to his brother before the fool gets himself killed. Or perhaps he'll find whoever did this to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. These Slow Veins

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure why I did this but I have and now it exists so there. I just really wanted something that resembled fluff for the Wade Brothers. I dunno why.  
> I do plan on Cannibalism being a thing somewhere in here but I do not know when. Just be prepared

Paxton woke up with a snarl bursting from his lips before his eyes were even fully open. Something was missing. Something was wrong. It felt like someone had ripped his skin off of his body, leaving his internal organs exposed to the world. Blinking in confusion, he mentally checked that he had all body parts attached. Hands, curled into bloody fists on his lap, check. Legs, check. Feet, bare and filthy, check. He didn't know what was missing. Perhaps there wasn't even anything gone. Except that his blood was moving sluggishly through his veins and his skin felt tired. Paxton didn't even realize that he could be aware of his own blood. Then it hit him like a freight train.

His power was gone. 

His heart started to beat faster- though his blood did little other than ooze through his body. His power, which had been like singing notes in his head and veins, was just gone. He’d earned that power, when he’d died at the hands of his fool brother. Even the bond at the back of his mind connecting him to said brother felt weak, unstable. His limbs moved clumsily as he pushed himself off the ground, marveling that he actually had to do so. He felt the urge to cry, which he hadn't done since he was seven and he’d been going through armacham tests. He felt weak. Normal. He hated himself for it and he hated whoever had done it to him with so a fierce passion that it pulsed at the back of his eyeballs. Before, his power would have been lifting things from where they sat and tossing them against the wall but now the only things he could move would be the things he could grab and lift with his hands. He clenched his fists at his sides, steeled himself for the walk ahead, and strode out of the blood spotted cell he’d woken in, daring anything that inhabited the jail to attack him.

Like Paxton had actually asked for it out loud, something leaped at him out of the shadows, screeching bloody murder, hands bent to grasp at him. It looked almost human. Paxton swung to the left, letting it sail by. Before it leapt out of arms reach, he shot out a hand, clutched at the back of its tattered shirt and slammed his other fist into its skull with a crunch. Blood spilled over his knuckles but he had no desire to taste it. The blood smelt wrong somehow. He let the human-like thing crumple to the concrete; its body folding like it had no bones. He’d learned that move from watching his brother. Paxton knew how to fight, of course. He had to back in the beginning, when his powers were barely developed and he had controlled a small army of mindless soldiers. They didn't always listen to what he told them. The enemy would fly at him, weapon swinging towards him and he would have to fight to save his life. But that was a long time ago, and Paxton had grown used to simply flinging his foes into the air, feeling them wriggle in his grip, before crushing them. Jumping into their bodies, pressing their spirit down with the sheer ferocity of his own. Now he had to relearn all his old moves, in the time it would take him to get to his brother, or whoever had done this to him. Whichever came first.

 

How tedious.


	2. The Screams Sing

Usually, Paxton would find blood and gore covering his feet delicious. But when he could feel the slimy parts of the dead humans between his toes, well. The situation just wasn’t appealing. Paxton shoved the hallway doors open. The door got stuck on something and jammed, not budging an inch. He sighed and looked inside the doorway. There was a hacked off arm in the way. “Of course” Paxton muttered. The arm was mangled and twisted almost beyond recognition and yet again Paxton’s stomach turned slightly. It was a truly bad day when even human didn’t make him happy. He pushed his body through the narrow opening, his jacket catching in the door. It was a good thing he was so slim. Point man wouldn’t have fit through there. Paxton sniggered at the thought of his brother trying to fit his brawn through the slim opening, eyes bulging slightly, silently cursing all doors. Paxton kicked the arm away from his feet and started down the concrete steps. The steps seem to end a few floors down, the steps completely blanketed in heavy shadow.

Paxton hoped he wasn’t going to end up on the complete opposite side of the facility to his Brother. He didn’t actually know where he was going. When he was with Brother, there always curiously seemed to be one path to take, suspiciously leading to exactly where they wanted to go. By himself though, all ways were open. He had to trust that the weak link in his head was leading him in the correct direction. It was barely there. This must what it must be like for Point Man, he thought bitterly, how pathetic. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell, the only noise in the dark space. His steps slowed. Silence usually meant something was about to happen. The silence seemed to be waiting, like it was holding its’ breath. Unconsciously, he did too. For a few tense seconds, he stood unmoving on the steps, a hand clutching the railing and the other raised in front of him. He could barely see it in the darkness.

The silence exploded. The tearing of metal screamed in the air, harsh in his ears. Something breathed on his neck with hot breath and he started scrambling down the steps before realizing what he was doing. He ran his hand down the railing as he tripped and fell down the steps, not being able to see more than two feet ahead of him. The sharp edges of the rail were cutting his hand but he didn’t lift it away; it was the only thing keeping him up. He could still feel the breath on his neck despite his fleeing. The shrill and unforgiving noise of the tearing metal echoed all around, growing louder as he made his way down one flight, two flights of stairs. He reached a doorway, the only thing lighted in the stairway. He rammed into it, hoping that it was unlocked. The doors crashed open easily, leaving him to collapse to the concrete. He didn’t turn around to see whatever it was that was chasing him, just pushed himself off the ground and forward with a low roar. He would not die by some petty ghost. Before he got even two meters away, he crashed into something solid, and warm. He would have fallen over if he hadn’t grabbed onto it. It grabbed his arms as they tried to shove it away. Paxton curled his hands into claws and bared his teeth. He righted himself, getting his feet underneath him and stood to his full height, his arms still trapped. He bent his knees and lunged for its’ throat, aiming for the kill and it didn’t matter if it was human or not, he was going to tear its’ throat out-

A gun slammed into his jaw, knocking him to the ground yet again. His head knocked into the ground with a smack and his brain turned to mush. His vision went blurry. Paxton groaned in pain and clutched around him, desperately trying to find the ground. He lay on the ground for a few moments, letting his vision and brain clear before pushing himself up so that he was sitting up. He blinked a few times at the man he’d crashed into. His eyes finally focused on him, his features becoming clear to Paxton.

 

“Brother. How nice to see you again”


	3. Silence of the Family

His brother lowered the hand he had holding the pistol pointed at Paxton’s head and offered the other one to him. Paxton sighed internally and took it, letting Point Man lift him from the ground easily. As usual, he didn’t say anything outloud. The bond was buzzing at the back off his head but Paxton couldn’t understand anything that his brother was obviously trying to tell him. It was like receiving a Morse code message in a text. Paxton shook his head at him before turning around to look at the stairs. The doors were wide open, taunting him. There was no giant beast, snorting in anger, or nasty spirit, creeping out of the darkness. Just the shadows. He straightened his jacket and faced his brother again. He was watching him with his usual hooded gaze, looking like something was faintly ticking him off. Paxton gestured for him to lead on, choosing to keep silent about the whole thing. He wasn’t an eight year old boy anymore and he was not going to come snivelling to his brother, crying about the darkness. So instead he challenged him to say anything with his eyes. Point Man stared back at him unflinchingly. The bond buzzed like a live wire.

“I’m sure what you are trying to say to me is absolutely fascinating but unfortunately, I seem to be a little deaf right now. Feel free to try speaking out loud” He taunted his brother. He actually seemed to try it, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. His eyes grew dark.

“Hmm, no. I didn’t think so” Paxton said and smirked slightly, “At least I’ll get a little peace and quiet now. What _are_ you looking so worried about? Ah, right. You thought I was running away, didn’t you? Unlike you brother, I don’t run away”

Point Man scowled and turned away from his brother and started down the hallway, his gun raised in front of him. His shoulders were stiff and he walked forward huffily. Paxton felt almost sorry for taunting his older brother so, but at least it had gotten him off his case. He wasn’t asking why Paxton was actually walking, or what he’d been running away from. He wasn’t asking why the red waves of fire weren’t floating from his skin like they usually did. Paxton wouldn’t have told anything anyway. He didn’t know the answers himself.

Point Man was not waiting for Paxton to keep up. He turned around the corner, leaving Paxton alone standing under the flickering light. He started walking, and then when he could hear his brother getting further away still, he started running. His bare feet started to hurt with a dull ache. He rounded the corner, opening his mouth to tell Point Man off for walking so fast when he slipped in a puddle of blood. He skid on one foot and then fell. He let out a little shriek of surprise as he toppled the ground. When he hit the ground, he immediately pushed himself to his feet, straightening his jacket, trying to act like he hadn’t completely embarrassed himself. Point Man had turned around and was staring at him with wide blue eyes. Paxton snarled and stepped forward-but slipped again and ended up on the ground.

“This is becoming a habit” He grumbled into the ground. He heard Point Man’s heavy footsteps and he grabbed Paxton’s arm. He pulled Paxton to his feet but didn’t let go when he was standing up. Instead, he stared into his eyes. He clearly wasn’t going to let Paxton get away with not answering.

“My power is gone. Congratulations, you are now the most powerful brother” He tried to appear calm and powerful, like he normally was. Unfazed. But his voice trembled slightly. He’d been the most powerful brother since they were children, when they didn’t even know they were brothers. Point Man couldn’t remember their childhood obviously but he did know Paxton liked being better than everybody else. His eyes searched Paxton’s face like it was going to supply answers. They drew to his forehead and stayed there. “What?” Paxton asked and shook his brothers arms free and reached up to touch his forehead, to the bullet scar, put there by his own caring brother. It was wet with blood and it stung when he touched it. He could feel skull underneath his fingers. He flinched, despite himself. He hadn’t felt his own skin in a very long time. He could feel pain, absently, when he fought against the soldiers but his own skin didn’t really have a sensation. He knew it was there, and his hands could rest on it but it didn’t have any feeling to it. Feeling his bullet scar was unnerving. Point Man let go of him and put his face back into expressionless mode.

“I think we should continue, Brother. You do want to find that woman, don’t you?” Paxton said to him and Point Man nodded slightly. He turned again and walked away, but slower this time, allowing Paxton to keep up with him. Paxton’s legs were long but Point Man was enhanced, a special gift from Armacham. He could easily run off and not stop for a couple of hours if he so wanted but some sense of family kept him with Paxton. Point Man turned and faced an office. The window was partly shattered, blood staining the sharp points of the broken shards. His hand rested on the door handle. He turned and looked at Paxton, making sure he knew what was happening, and was prepared, and opened the wooden door. He quickly raised the handgun, aiming into the destroyed office. He walked in carefully, Paxton on his heels, and prodded the body that sat in the office chair. It was slumped over the desk, a revolver in its hand. A giant chunk of its skull was missing and blood stained its pale neck and face. It didn’t move when Point Man touched it, so he turned around to inspect the rest of the office. Papers and assorted office junk lay on the ground and there was an upturned coffee table. Resting on the upside down table was a doll, eerily similar to their mother. It’s red dress made it look like it was wearing blood. Point Man hesitated slightly before reaching down and picking it up. The moment he touched it, the glass left in the frame shattered to the ground. The familiar sound of their mothers scream tore through the air. The papers flew about, pushed into the air by some invisible force. Paxton could hear groaning. At first, he thought it was the doll but when Point Man shook it and frowned at him, he knew that it wasn’t. He turned around. The man in the chair was sitting up, his body moving slowly and clumsily. His head flopped back on its neck.

Paxton curled his hands and slammed them into its head, not giving it time to stand up. His fingers sunk sickeningly into the soft mess of its skull. He gripped the bone and started to tear the two halves he held apart, the skin and bone tearing apart too easily. The man groaned again and clutched weakly at Paxton’s hands but he didn’t stop. With a growl, he split the head open, exposing the grey brain inside, and let the man go. It fell off the chair and to the ground, the bloody mess of its head squelching as it hit the floor. Parts of its brain slipped out of its head and spilled onto the floor, along with a puddle of blood. It moaned again and Point Man shot it in the back of the neck. It stopped moaning. Paxton wiped his hands on his black jacket, leaving chunky smears. “Lovely” He said and gave his brother a feral grin. He didn’t return it. They walked out of the office, Paxton grabbing the dead man's revolver, and he noticed something else about his now powerless state.

He wasn’t joking when he said he could get some peace and quiet before. It wasn’t that his brother constantly nagged him. On the contrary, Point Man rarely used the bond. It was his mother that bothered him all the time. She would whisper in his head about the people that had created him and the people that had treated Alma like an experiment since she was three. Alma never spoke to Point Man. Paxton was her favourite son, all because of his powers and bloodlust. She always seemed to be standing in the corners of his vision, always seemed to be breathing into his ear. When Point Man wasn’t there to help him in bad situations, Alma was, flinging away his enemies with a simple motion of her small hands. But his head was silent. She was not standing at the edges of his vision, watching him, pleading with him. Paxton’s head was almost completely his own.

The silence was deafening.


	4. Like Mother like Son

Paxton pulled his head back around the corner just in time. Bullets slammed into the wall behind him. His breathed hitched in his throat. This was the exact opposite of where he wanted to be. The exact opposite of where he should be. Without those flames rising from his sometimes corporeal body, he was vulnerable. The minds of the soldiers were closed from him. But he couldn’t just run away and desert his brother. _He_ wasn’t a coward. So he raised the revolver in his hands, took a breath and leaned around the corner. He lifted the gun and pointed it at the armacham soldier, trying to move with the lightning quick speed that his brother so effortlessly used in battle. His gun was pointed right at the centre of the woman’s head, just under the helmet she wore. With a faint sense of triumph at moving so fast, Paxton squeezed the trigger, preparing himself for the kick. The gun his hands clicked. Empty.

_Empty._ Paxton growled at himself. How could he be so stupid as to not check the barrel for bullets? Was he one of the brain dead soldiers hunting them? So instead of shooting the soldier, Paxton decided he would just have to use old fashioned methods. He threw the revolver down on the metal walkway and ran at the soldier. She was still flinching back from when she thought she was going to get shot. He leapt at her, sending them both clattering to the metal. She screamed in his face and tried to bring her gun up to shoot him put he held her arm down with his. He pressed her against the metal with the heavier weight of his body and grabbed her chin. He forced her head back, baring her smooth, white throat and sunk his teeth into it. His teeth tore through her skin easily. He clenched his teeth together and tore her throat open, leaving her throat a bloody, ugly mess and her screams turned into gurgling, choking breaths. Her blood was salty in Paxton’s mouth. It was familiar and it was glorious. But he didn’t have time to indulge. He had only taken down one soldier and there was likely around ten shooting at Point Man. He could see his brother through the metal grating next to the quickly dying woman’s head. He was ducking around the columns, dodging bullets and shooting the soldiers with surgical precision. Paxton wondered if it wasn’t Armacham’s training but Alma’s bloodthirsty influence that made him such a great killer. The woman beneath him let out a wet gurgle.

“It’ll be over soon” Paxton told her with a smile and pushed himself off of her. One advantage of having a corporeal body all the time meant he didn’t have to possess another just to eat. He stepped over her body and slunk towards the stairs that led down to the floor Point Man was on. He walked down them, pressing himself to the side of the metal cage surrounding the stairs, trying to attract as little attention as possible. He wasn’t Point Man. Bullets would hurt and damage if they tore through his now mortal body. Being shot was an experience he didn’t feel like reliving. He sprinted to the column his brother was currently behind. He gave Paxton a small grin before unclipping a grenade from his belt, pulling the pin out with his teeth, and tossing it. It landed in the empty space between several safety barriers where some soldiers were hiding. They scrambled away from the grenade frantically, yelling. Rats fleeing the nest. Point whirled around the column and fired at the running soldiers with his Ak-47. He hit three of them, all in a row, and they screamed and fell almost at the same time, like human dominos. Point Man chuckled. Definitely Alma’s influence, Paxton thought. He pulled the handgun from Point Man’s holster, who barely noticed. He checked that there were bullets in it this time, releasing the ammo clip. A full clip. He glanced at his brother, shooting and roaring almost gleefully. Perhaps there was fun to be had in shooting the enemy. Paxton aimed around the column and fired, the gun kicking back in his hands. Its loud bark rang in his ears as the soldier he’d been aiming at flew backwards, blood spurting from the bullet hole in his skull.

“This isn’t as boring as I thought, Brother. Quite satisfying, really” Paxton shouted at Point Man over the gunfire. His brother grinned again and Paxton could suddenly see the family resemblance they shared.


	5. My Children of Horror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ++Warning++  
> ++Mentioned Rape++  
> ++Cannibalism++  
> ++Child Pregnancy++  
>  ++Warning++

Paxton dropped the arms of the soldier he was dragging and let him slump onto the pile of dead bodies. Point Man was searching the bodies and pocketing any ammo and supplies he found. He’d made Paxton drag all the bodies, despite being the stronger of the two. Paxton considered knocking over his brother, but his arms were too tired. The soldiers were heavy. Point Man seemed oblivious to Paxton’s irritation.

“Ignorant lug” Paxton muttered. Point Man’s head snapped up and he fixed Paxton with his intense glare. Was his dark hair bristling or was that just Paxton? Paxton did his best to look innocent. He looked around, trying not to meet his gaze. “Brother, it’s one of Mother’s dolls” He said. Perfect timing, Mother, He thought gratefully. He jerked his chin towards the corner. It was almost hidden behind the console that controlled the doors of the cell block that they were in. The skull face _just_ peeked around the corner, staring at them with one its empty black sockets. Paxton steeled himself for the usual accompanying scream that came with the doll as Point Man pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the doll. But there was no scream when he picked it up. He shot his brother a confused look. But his brother’s eyes were fixed on the door way behind Paxton. His eyes were wide and haunted. Paxton’s heart started to thump in his ears. What could make his brother look so disturbed? The answer was both unexpected and expected.

Their Mother.

Paxton didn’t know whether to shoot forward and grab her hand or to back up to his brother. Would she still love him (In her violent, childish way) or would she scorn him for losing his powers? He was even weaker than when he was just a child, not a single ounce of psychokinetic ability in his body. And that meant he had nothing to protect himself from her. She might hug him or she might crush his body in a shower of blood. How did his brother live in such obliviousness? Alma looked grotesque. Her stomach was far too large for her tiny six year old body, making her thin limbs look downright skeletal. The giant bulge of her stomach made her red dress rise from her knees to mid-thighs. Something moved under the dress, pushing against the thin material. She simply stared at them with her haunted eyes for several tense seconds before disappearing and appearing a meter closer. Paxton swallowed nervously. She appeared closer, close enough that he cast her in shadow. He didn’t move away though. That was weakness. Her hand shot out towards his face, quicker than he could properly follow. He heard Point Man take a step forward and he leaned back, stretching away from her. And she cupped his cheek in her hand.

“My Baby” She whispered, the sound of her voice touching his mind, feather soft. He relaxed under touch and leaned forward, mentally sighing in relief. He rested his face in her black hair as she wrapped her arms around his hips, pushing her face into his stomach. Her bloated stomach pushed against him.

“Where are you, mother? Where are they keeping your body? We’re coming to get you. We’ll rescue you and then we can finally be a family” He murmured into her hair, not caring if his brother thought he was being weak. Alma pulled back slightly, craning her head back to look up at him. She smiled brilliantly but there was something tense about it. Something pained about it.

“A family” She whispered lovingly, and one of her hands dropped to her stomach, cradling it tenderly, “Yes. A family”

Paxton caught his breath. Alma. Pregnant. Half of him was almost excited. Perhaps this sibling won’t shoot him. But the other half was already racing ahead to think of the consequences. Alma giving birth while conscious would destroy everything and everyone around her. She would lay waste to the world without even realizing it, too consumed in her own pain to stop it. He’d seen her angry and in pain. It was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

“Who is the father?” Paxton asked her carefully, hoping she wouldn’t mind. Women were meant to be touchy when they were pregnant, weren’t they? He thought. And Alma was erratic at the best of times. But Alma sighed dreamily, and reached to cup his face again. She showed him images of a man. He wore Armacham uniform. She showed him clips of the man pacing a shadowed cell, screaming at the cameras that watched him. She showed him clips of his unconscious body lying in a hospital bed, tossing and turning. Paxton watched through his mother’s eyes as she climbed onto his body, now not a six year old, but an attractive young woman. He watched as Alma showed herself raping the man.

Paxton jerked back, breaking contact with Alma. He wasn’t the best role model. He _ate people,_ and he _enjoyed_ it. He was a killer, since the age of eight. But he didn’t rape. Alma was shaping a name on her lips, completely oblivious to Paxton’s shock. _Becket_. Point Man put a hand on his shoulder, shocking Paxton out of his trance. He stared into Paxton’s eyes, a silent question in his own. But Paxton could barely think himself. He tried to think of something to tell his brother but his Mother was speaking.

“Another baby. She will be perfect. You will look after, won’t you? Yes Paxy, you’ll make the best big brother” She giggled and then fixed a sharp look on Point Man, who let his hands drift down to the handgun at his hip, “No shooting your sister”

Paxton nearly laughed. Alma skipped over to the console and jumped onto it, swinging her legs like she really was a child.

“She’ll be a present to me. I need a present, since you just got one, Paxy-“She cut herself off, a hand drifting to cover her mouth, “Oops”

“What?” Paxton asked. She shook her head hurriedly. “Mother? You wouldn’t hide something from me, would you?” He urged her, widening his eyes childishly. She teetered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing. She twiddled her hands.

“I don’t know if you’ll hate me” She said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Mother, I would never hate you” He said, completely truthfully. They were bound. She’d protected him when he couldn’t, came to him when he needed a friend. She inhaled deeply and pushed herself off of the console. Her over sized stomach made her stumble slightly. She took his and Point Man’s hands. His brother had moved away slightly. She looked into Paxton’s eyes, chewing her lips nervously.

“It was me who took your powers away”


End file.
